Pretense & Peculiarity
by Gweneth Lee
Summary: After a series of unfortunate tragedies, Evelyn Mercer's friends conspire to send her on a soul healing vacation to the United Kingdom. A visit to an imposing set of standing stones turns nightmarish as Eve finds herself cast back through time 203 years to 1814. Trapped in Regency England, Eve must navigate the unfamiliar political and social terrain while searching for a way home.
1. AN & Prologue

Author's Note

This fictionalized work is based off of the works of Diana Gabaldon and Deborah Harkness respectively. I do not claim to own or take credit for the characters, events or plots from their work. The following prologue is modified from an excerpt of Outlander by Diana Gabaldon, changed to suit the story to which it precedes. I do not claim credit for the structure or basic form of this prologue. The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any apparent similarity to real persons, including names, histories etc. is not intended by the author.

Prologue: People disappear all the time…

People disappear all the time. Ask any policeman. Better yet, ask a blogger. Disappearances are bread-and-butter to bloggers.

Young people run away from the pre-constructed ideals of their parents, teens are lured away by internet enigmas with empty promises never to be seen again. Husbands endure years of abuse and reach the end of their ropes when society refuses to recognize their trauma, so they board a greyhound bus bound for anywhere. International celebrities change their names and vanish from the limelight into the fog of normalcy.

Many of the lost will be found, eventually, dead or alive. Disappearances, after all, have explanations.

Usually.


	2. Anchors Away

A/N: Welcome and thank you for reading. This story was started as a submission for NANOWRIMO in the fall of 2017 and is still being written. I am editing and updating as I go, so please bear with me.

The structure of this particular story is a bit unusual compared to my typical writing style in that the chapters will be broken at times with journal entries from the main character (Eve's) perspective. That said, this first chapter is largely introductory to give background and is written in third person rather than first, which is how the chapters that follow are written.

Chapter 1: Anchors Away

Anyone who has ever moved from one place to another is familiar with the chaos that ensues when attempting to transport the lives of people from one place to another, no matter how far. Clothes and belongings must be packed, they must be labeled properly and inevitably items would be found once all the boxes were full and sealed and those lost things would go into a box of newly found miscellany until their new home could be reached. To some, this process is stressful and loud and painful, full of late nights, bad coffee and backaches.

The Mercer family was no stranger to moving. Mr. Mercer, Terry to his friends, Terrance to his now ex-wife, and Daddy to his 13-year-old daughter, had been in the United States Navy since he graduated high school and had been an officer when he married. Military life had weighed on his wife, Abigail, who now stood glowering at the moving truck and taking a draw on what must have been her fifth cigarette of the morning. Their daughter Evelyn, known only by this name when in trouble, and at all other times as Eve, had never known anything different. She had been born while her father was deployed at sea and had been four months old when she first laid eyes on him. At the time the most interesting thing about him was his mustache, a feature Abigail had hated with a passion, but which little Eve had latched onto, literally, as soon as she saw him. Terry had chuckled and cooed at the baby in his arms while in the background Abigail had used their daughter's action as the most recent of many reasons he should shave the mustache off and go back to the trim, clean-shaven and dashing man she had married. But that would never happen, because that was something Abigail had never really accepted as truth, you cannot force someone to be something that they aren't. Like it or not, Terry was a bit older, a bit harder, and now he had a mustache. He could shave it, yes, but that would not turn him back into the unscarred, free-spirited young man she had fallen in love with.

Terry and Abigail Mercer had remained married through his career in the Navy for the better part of 11 years, most of that time apart, as Terry was often out to see or deployed elsewhere and Abigail refused to leave the US for any of the "heathen wastelands" he might be deployed to; wastelands such as Italy, Africa, Japan and New Zealand just to list a few. Not even the pleading of her daughter would sway Abigail in her stance. Not even nine-year-old Eve's manipulated social studies project, which she slaved over for two whole weeks and which displayed all the benefits that came to living abroad as a child, would so much as make her consider leaving the country. So, they compromised, and the family moved up and down the coast from one military base to another. Each time staying two years at most before repeating the process of packing, weighing, and thinning their belongings before travelling to yet another new home, with another set of school enrollments and another new beginning. Eve supposed that the benefit to this was that she didn't dread new beginnings as some people did as they grew up. Even now as she helped carry the last of her boxes from the house on Geary street to the moving van, she thought about the long trek as a new chapter in the adventure rather than as something to be dreaded.

In truth the move seemed even more like a new beginning than any of the moves before. This was, she knew, because the moving truck in the drive held only boxes filled with her own and her father's belongings. Her mother would not be joining them, on this move or any of the ones that might follow. The divorce which had taken six long months to sort out and complete had been finished two weeks before and the arrangements for the move had been finalized shortly thereafter. Eve hadn't been surprised by the divorce, which had been coming, she thought since her father retired and came to live at home full time. As much as Terry and Abigail had tried to adapt their relationship to one that involved living together for more than a few months at a time, it simply hadn't worked and after two years of trying, they had given in and filed for divorce. The only real surprise of the proceedings had been when the time came to discuss custody. Terry hadn't anticipated a fight, nor had Abigail, although Abigail had assumed she would have sole custody and Terry who had less experience in parenting would have visiting rights. What neither of them had anticipated was their precocious teenager to step up and state that while she loved both of her parents, she wanted to live with her father, whatever that meant. What that had meant was one of the lawyers taking Eve for a stroll to visit the office's breakroom for a hot cocoa while the other lawyer tried to keep her mother from exploding in a tirade of tears and cursing.

The custody issue was what had drawn the divorce out so very long. Because no matter what Abigail might have dreamed up in her ideal perfect outcome, she hadn't counted on her daughter having a voice in the matter. An according to the law of the state they filed for divorce in, she had a voice, and a say in the where and with whom she would live. Moreover, Abigail's own case was weakened by the fact that she had declined to continue her schooling after getting married and had quit her two part-time jobs to become a stay at home mom, which was perfectly acceptable for a military wife in her opinion. She sold makeup or home decor or kitchen wares to come up with her own pocket money, but overall, hadn't really had to do more than that and hadn't wanted to besides. After Terry had retired, she'd taken up odd jobs, but as he went on to teach at the military academy on base and had veterans benefits besides, it had never been a worry. They were financially fine, and had enough wiggle room to keep them in good care and support a family of three. Terry had been steadily employed since his honorable discharge and had even taken advantage of the mental health resources when his doctor expressed that his insomnia and fatigue might have more to do with PTSD than with his diet. These as well as dozens of other factors had gone into the endless calculations before the discussions ever came to a head in the case. And all of that was before the legal advisors sat down with Eve, just the little girl and an appointed social services representative, to discuss her thoughts and opinions on the matter. They asked what her ideal future looked like and what she liked most and least about each parent. They asked where she would like to live if she could live anywhere in the world. And when her answer was recorded as "I don't care…somewhere with the ocean and my daddy", the lawyers had exchanged a glance and gone back to the table. Many more meetings followed, and life in the Mercer house had been unpleasant bordering on hostile during the rough period.

Those many meetings and difficult family dinners had all led up to today. It had dawned humid and hot as only a Georgia summer day could do and as the sun rose in the sky it hadn't gotten any more comfortable. It was Eve's decided opinion by eleven o'clock that morning that if you ever really hated someone you should curse them to moving heavy boxes on a summer day in Georgia. The garage sale of the previous weekend meant that there was little actual furniture in the truck. After some discussion, the parents had decided to let Eve sell whatever of her clothes and things no longer fit her or she no longer wanted to earn some extra cash to furnish her new room. Her old bedframe would remain at her mother's house for the holidays and summers that she would spend there, though summer in Georgia sounded more like a sentence than a holiday. Still, it had thrilled Eve to be put in charge of this part of her fate and she had spent every free chance she had researching furniture and décor, trying to decide what her new room would look like.

"Fifty-six degrees in Providence, sweetheart, just a few more boxes and we'll be on the way." Her father spoke the encouragement in a soft grunt as he hefted yet another box from the dolly onto the lip of the moving truck. It was softly spoken less out of exhaustion and more out of a desire to keep from starting another unintended fight about the distance of the move which was still a sore spot with Abigail. Providence, Rhode Island was just over a thousand miles away from their sunny suburb in Georgia and had been chosen not based on distance, but because Terry had gotten a job offer to one of the colleges near Newport which came with a salary that would support both him and Eve with comfort. The house they would be renting to own was in Middletown, and not too much of a drive from school or work. Eve would take the bus, or walk, if the school was as close as the real estate agent had hinted, and Terry would drive to work in the reliable little impala which would soon be hitched to the moving truck.

By one o'clock the last three boxes were loaded into the moving truck and the cooler with their snacks, drinks and dinner was loaded into the front end. Eve checked over the nest she had set up for herself in the passenger seat complete with blanket, pillow and book then hopped down and circled the truck. Her parents were by the door having what looked like round three of her mother's argument that they should stay one more night and leave in the morning. So instead of inserting herself into that mess, she followed the line of the hitch back to the impala and checked the straps holding her bicycle to the rack. Her skateboard was already in the truck, tucked behind the seats so that she could take it out and stretch her legs at stops along the road. But the bike would stay strapped up tight until they reached Rhode Island.

Once the voices settled down Eve glanced up to see her father move as if to hug her mother, only for her to turn away. Their conversation was very clearly over, and before the hurt look could evolve on her father's face any further, Eve took a few quick steps over and hugged her mother with a largely exaggerated enthusiasm. After a teary goodbye from her mother, promises to text her at each stop and call her once they stopped for the night and again when they arrived in Rhode Island, the family separated for good. Her father donned his ball-cap and the two climbed into the truck to start their long drive toward their new lives.


	3. Journal Entry: June 2004

From the personal journal of Evie Mercer

6 June 2004

Dear Jane,

We've been on the road so long I've almost figured out how to sleep in the truck while we're driving. Mom wasn't as dramatic as I thought she would be, but she still gave daddy a hard time while we loaded the truck and wanted us to stay another day, but we managed to get out on time mostly.

Daddy and I have been taking turns with the radio. It's his turn right now, and he's listening to some car talk thing where they have people call in with their car issues and the hosts tell them how to fix them and share stories of things they've fixed before. Or at least that's what it sounds like…aka…really boring. But on my turns I've been introducing him to actual modern music. Because no matter what he seems to think, disco is in no way modern. It's old. Old and weird and really annoying. He doesn't seem to hate the music I've introduced him to so far, but maybe he's just being polite.

There have been some fun stops on the trip so far. Daddy and I planned this to be more like a vacation than a chore, so we stopped off in Williamsburg Virginia and saw all of the old reenactment stuff and some of the historical houses. I liked the gardens the best. Back then people had pretty gardens that were meant to be walked through and enjoyed, not kept contained in little boxes by their houses like now. Now when people think of a garden, there are usually two things that come to mind: HGTV landscape jobs with super expensive furniture, and pretty flower displays for in front of their houses. In the past though, people made gardens enjoyable, like a park would be now. It was meant to be walked through and admired and enjoyed from all angles. There were paths through the neatly trimmed hedges so that people could take enjoyable strolls and admire the plants without getting their fancy clothes dirty. I imagine this would be extra important since sewing machines weren't around yet, so clothes had to be sewn by hand. I don't think I'd have the patience for sewing, by hand or with a machine.

Busch gardens was fun too, though dad didn't want to do many of the roller coasters with me. We went on the one that looked the most fun first, which was a mistake, since it made daddy so dizzy that he turned a gross shade of green. He didn't throw up though, and after that he stood in lines with me and passed the coasters when it was time to get on. He waved me off and took pictures, especially of my hair once I got off a ride. He seemed to enjoy gathering that blackmail way too much. I might have to steal his camera once he goes to bed to get rid of the worst of the incriminating evidence.

Dad is way more tired than he admits. I can tell. He's doing all the driving, since it's 3 years until I can drive. Mom might have been right about leaving the day after we loaded the truck. I think he overdid things and pushed too hard because now he drives all day and we stop at a hotel at night and he sleeps like the dead and then we get up and do it again. And he's been taking me to fun places along the way even though I keep telling him that he doesn't have to if he's too tired. He just looks over at me with a smile and tells me that he wants me to have a good time and see new places. He won't listen when I tell him that I'm having fun, he just does that dad-nod and changes the subject before I can protest anymore. I really am having fun though.

And I'm excited to see our new home. New schools don't really bother me though this will be the first time ever that I'm actually going to be staying in one place long enough to stay in the same school all the way through. I'll go to the same high school for all four years and have classes with the same people, make the same friends…it seems really weird to me given how much we've always moved around. They'd better have a decent library or I may flat out die. I hate that I get carsick when I try to read while we're on the road. But blinding headaches and vomiting aren't fun, so no reading for me until we stop for the night.

It's my turn for the radio now though, so I'll stop here. Time to introduce dad to Beyoncé!

Love,

Eve


End file.
